The Fall of the Watchers
by TenthMuse
Summary: prehistory to Angelfall. everyone knows that all the Watchers except Raffe fell. everyone knows that Lucifer is the devil. but what really happened?


**AN:** hello, world. this is my first fanfiction. i do hope this little confession of inexperience doesn't scare anyone off.

after lurking around the fandom for a while, i've noticed that there aren't a whole lot of _Angelfall _fics. and decided that something must be done about it. (really what can people be doing other than writing Raffryn smut? it's almost as if fanfiction writers have _lives._)

originally, i worked on an alternate version of the second book of _Penryn and the End of the Days. (_personally, _World After _was rather a disappointment and was really kind of...blah.) but i don't have it an me to rewrite history. so. i decided to write prehistory.

what? is this chick sane?

(no. no she isn't. her parents had her tested.)

i am writing about what happened BEFORE A_ngelfall_. i mean waaaaaay before Penryn's great-great-great grandma was in existence.

**this is the story is of the Watchers' fall.**

(p.s. this story contains no smut. i am truly very, very sorry. maybe next time, dearies.)

**Disclaimer:** this is a work of fanfiction using characters from the _Penryn and the End of the Days_ world, which is trademarked by Susan Ee. i am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story.

* * *

"Neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible except to God alone."

― John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

* * *

**I.**

Said the angel Gabriel,

"Keepers of the peace, champions of justice, warriors of valor:

I am but a humble servant of God. Honored am I to be His servant. And you too, my Brothers are but just. As Messenger of God, I am but a vessel of the Lord. I submit to His will, do humbly as He bid, and let His hand guide me without question. And in return, He gives me wisdom, light, and truth. I speak His words, and His words only. I speak only the truth.

It has come to me, my Angels, that we are His blessed children. We are truly blessed. Are we not blessed with goodness and honesty and virtue? Are we not blessed with strength and intelligence and resilience? Are we not blessed with the ability to wield mighty swords of light, which He has forged Himself in the fieriest pits of hell and cooled in the sweetest and purest waters of heaven? Are we not blessed with grace and beauty? Are we not the most carefully and exquisitely crafted of all His children, hewn in the very image of Himself? Are we not blessed with handsome, snowy appendages in which to take to the sky and keep our purity from being sullied by the dirt and filth of the earth? And yet, are we not so humble that we do not let His blessings taint us with false pride? Are we not worthy of His love?

We are, indeed, His blessed children. Look down, Brothers, and you shall see. See the silly humans toil—weak and inconsequential, corruptible. They fight amongst themselves, spill blood amongst themselves. They steal, pilfer, covet, and cheat. They are fickle, deceitful, lustful, philandering and unchaste. They are His wicked children. They are impure and live in sin. They have tainted themselves beyond redemption. Their mortal lives and earthly matters will matter naught when the time comes and their bodies succumb to time and their spirits ascend to the heavens to be judged in the wise and all-knowing eyes of God Himself— only to be refused into the gates of His kingdom and cast down to the fiery pits of hell.

But God is loving, God is merciful, God is forgiving. And as His faithful followers, we too must be kind and forgiving. We must pity the humans. We must bring them the light. Come, O, brothers we must fight this wickedness. We must break this endless cycle of sin and sin without redemption. They, too, are the children of God. And we, as the blessed, we must go forth and embark on this new and holiest of crusades. Too long we have let this go on. Too long, we have watched from afar. We must correct their ways, watch over them and see that they sin no more. Guide their hand, their spirit, their heart so that one day they will enter the gates of heaven. Go forth, my Brothers, my Watchers! Go forth!"

And with His blessing, the Watchers left the Aerie and descended down to Earth. They landed in a small village, where the humans, for once, were not fighting amongst themselves but harvesting their autumnal yield together. When the humans saw the angels—saw their towering height; their sinuous musculature; their grave, beautiful faces; their glorious wings spread wide—they dropped their work and fell to their knees, praying to God above for mercy.

The Watchers told them, "Get up, you weaklings, for we have brought you salvation. We shall watch over you and make sure that you do not stray."

And watched the Watchers did. In particular, they watched the Daughters of Man—the most sinful and fairest of God's wicked children; Eve's wicked blood ran through their veins.

But it was the Watchers that should have been watched. They did their job too well. They watched too hard.

One by one the Watchers fell.

* * *

**II.**

The angel Raphael is the youngest of the Watchers. But he is brave, valiant, and strong. The women of the village bring him gifts. They watch from a respectful distance, not a little fear and awe in their eyes. They want to touch him, he can tell. They want to kneel at his feet, to stroke his wings, look up at him with unabashed adoration in their eyes. He refuses them all, all their gifts—he is also the most virtuous. Or so the other Watchers tell him, in jest. For the angels are pure, clean. The sin of flesh is not for them. They are His blessed children.

Flesh is prohibited, but it does not stop the other angels from accepting the other gifts proffered by the humans: fire; incense; oils; a warm place to sleep; music; wine; the ripest of the fruit, the pick of the crops; the fattest of the cattle; the softest of the sheep. Pleasure.

"These are earthly pleasures, not carnal pleasures," Lucifer says when Raphael refused to be served his meal by a young girl with green eyes and trembling hands. "It would be a sin to refuse them, Raphael. The humans are not all bad; they want to please us and do not want anything from us other than our acceptance. We are doing our part by letting them please us."

The other angels nod and murmur in agreement. Lucifer is the leader, the wisest and oldest of the Watchers. He sits at the head of the elaborately carved oak wood table (a gift of the humans), his blue eyes and golden hair gleaming in the firelight. His words take precedence.

"By the way, Raphael, an apology is in order."

Raphael's cheeks burn as the others snigger. But he swallows down his pride as he grits his teeth and says, "I am sorry, Brother." Lucifer waves away his apology.

"No, not to me. To Kira."

Raphael arches an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Kira, that human serving girl with the lovely green eyes. I imagine that she has been distraught by your refusal to let her serve you. She has no idea about your well-meant, but misplaced loyalty to angelic ideals; she thinks you rejected her out of personal offense. It would be best that you apologize to her before she becomes a pariah among her own people."

Raphael cannot believe his ears. Nor can the others, judging by their sudden tenseness and exchange of arched eyebrows and confused glances. He, an angel, apologize to a human? What madness was this?

"Humility is a virtue," says Lucifer, who goes on eating as if he had not said anything mutinous and wrong. "It extends to all of God's children. Even angels must bow down to humans."

O-o-O-o-O

The next day, Raphael notices that Lucifer is served exclusively by a girl with green eyes. He thinks that she may be the girl named Kira. She blushes when Lucifer thanks her for the bread, and her hands tremble so much from yesterday's trauma that she drops the soup. The clay bowl shatters and soup is splattered all over Lucifer's robes. There is silence—all the Watchers stop eating and the girl's face is deathly white. Lucifer, however, simply dabs at his robes with a napkin and soothes the weeping girl. There is something disturbingly gentle about the way he wipes the tears from her face. The other angels watch the exchange silently, but say nothing. After all, there is nothing to say.


End file.
